


Blue

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [46]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Smut, kastle - Freeform, well it mentions smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: A gift to thank my lovely friend Bunny (is it ok if I call you that?) for creating the Kastle Halloween Gift Exchange for us. Thank you, hun!Frank and Karen and their time in the safe house





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evil_bunny_king](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_bunny_king/gifts).



He liked that chair.

Like an old man, he adopted a recliner chair and spent more time than he should sitting there.

It was temporary, though. He would have to give it up when he and Karen left the apartment. But, for now, he would enjoy it.

With his feet up on the coffee table, he watched the feed of the security cameras. All quiet, no one had bothered them so far - and he hoped it would remain that way. What was supposed to be a safe house became, too soon, their secluded, hidden private spot. Micro was the only one, other than him and Karen, that knew the exact address. The rest of the team knew which block it was, but not the building or the apartment.

Almost two weeks, they’ve been here. On the first days, they kept busy planning their mission. After that, there was the fight over the life of her would be captor, enslaver and killer. Thankfully, Micro couldn’t keep his trap shut, so he showed her the file and she had, reluctantly, understood why Frank didn’t debate the decision to off the prick for more than a second, even if she still didn’t agree. The rest of the time had been very well spent, if you ask him.

They kept, mainly, to her bedroom. The bed that was hers for at least three weeks was never made. Day or night, the sheets and pillows were tangled, the curtain drawn to let just enough light in, the window only cracked open, so a bit of air would circulate. Most of the time, however, the curtains and windows were shut and Frank was moving inside Karen, she was moaning under, on top, against him, moving like some sort of enchanted creature, he was so fucking lost in her.

The bathroom would have them together often, too. Frank was having a little bit of trouble letting go of her. More often than not, he would follow her into the shower and there they would stay until they ran out of hot water. Karen would also sit on the counter while he shaved or redid the bandages on the three recent bullet wounds. She would sit on the counter and run a hand on his face, or she would stand between him and the sink and run her tongue on the spot where his jaw met his neck, lifting his shirt up, unbuttoning his pants and reaching inside, making him stop whatever it was that he was doing to focus on her, her body, her voice, the way she felt, tasted and smelled, test and discover new angles, fog up the mirror.

The kitchen saw the least amount of sexual activity yet, but the two occasions have been memorable. The first one, they had been sharing a chair, right after their little “breakfast date”. He had gone out to deal with the clean up of the mission and came back with pancakes, bacon, coffee and pie. She scrambled some eggs and they ate slowly, wrapped up in each other, discovering this new side of them, this _great_ side of them. He had actually began to get sleepy again, but Karen only seemed to get more worked up. From her spot on one of his legs, she picked his face up and kissed him so deeply, so intensely he felt his skin raising in shivers all over. Moving off him, she whispered how she had pictured this, alone in her room, on the subway, at work, in the middle of the night, she had thought about him and imagined, all by herself, what he would feel like, with her.

And then she slid to the floor and proceeded to try and drive him insane with her mouth. Frank broke a plate and a cup.

The second time had been on the next day, after dinner. Nothing was going to happen, they were ready to go to sleep, just finishing drying and storing the dishes, the whole apartment was dark, Frank was thinking about the locks on the balcony door when Karen reached up to put a glass on a high shelf and her shirt rode up over her hips, exposing her naked ass to him and, for a second, he tried to shake the image off, but then he remembered he didn’t have to, so he walked to her, turned her around, kissed her a bit roughly, sat her on the counter, held onto her hips, one leg at each side of him and spent the next half hour watching as she lied on the counter top, writhing, biting on the rag she had been using to dry the plates to avoid making too much noise while he let himself enjoy her, unrestrained.

It was natural that the couch was used for a few of these activities. She climbed his lap while he talked on the radio with his team, taking her shirt off while he tried to focus and instruct the men’s next step, nibbling on the lobe of his ear, seeking friction against his jeans. He massaged her legs while she finished typing the article for the Bulletin, fingers soon rising and probing and working fast at making her shiver.

His chair, though, remained for lounging. She pulled him from it to take him to bed or somewhere else. She sat there with him when she was bored, cooped up in this apartment, not able to leave until the threat against her had been 100% eliminated. She curled herself like a cat against his chest and napped while he read the paper.

And right now, after her shower, she took his lap again while he sat on it, having turned it towards the balcony, a portion of the curtains and the door cracked open so the cool evening air could circulate.

“So you're sticking with blue, huh?” he asked, holding her hand in his, her head resting on his shoulder, looking at her nails. Her blue nails.

She turned to look from the view to their joined hands.

“Are you just noticing it now? It's been blue for almost three weeks.”

“And for three weeks I've been wondering.”

He saw her lashes flutter as she blinked, staring at her own fingers.

“You don't like blue?”

He shrugged. “It’s a bold choice.”

“Says the man who walks around with a big white skull imprinted on his chest”, she mocked and he felt himself smirking.

“Point taken.”

She studied her chipping nail polish for a moment longer and then curled her fingers around his, resting their joined hands on her belly.

“I'll get a manicure once I can get out of here”, she decided.

Frank rested his cheek on the top of her head, smelling the shampoo they have been sharing, and caught himself wishing that her nails could remain blue for a while, if it meant him having more of her, here with him.

**Author's Note:**

> ?? ♥♥ ??


End file.
